Hungary for a better future?

 
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By Swaan van Iterson

Faced with soaring unemployment and the lack of prospects, many educated young Hungarians are being drawn to the radical right. But will it give them the better future they seek?

Friday 5 August 2011

The Turul bird is the national symbol of Hungary. Jobbik voters often wear it on T-shirts, necklaces, bracelets and other accessories. Photo: Swaan van Iterson

Until last year, the international media paid little attention to Hungary. This changed when the nationalist and conservative Fidesz party, under the leadership of Viktor Orbán, won a two-thirds majority in the elections of April 2010, thereby gaining the power to push through radical changes. 

Orbán moved quickly to nationalise private pension funds. In addition, he pushed through a controversial media law, which stipulates that a government-appointed media authority should monitor whether journalists provide “moral” and “objective” reporting.

More recently, in July of this year, his government passed a new church law, which officially recognises only 14 religions, and hence strips the others of the right to receive state subsidies. The Institute on Religion and Public Policy (IRPP) called the legislation the “worst religion law in Europe”.

And Orbán and his party are not finished yet. His latest idea is to allow secondary school children to study “basic military science” starting from the coming academic year.

But it is not just the Fidesz party that is making news in Hungary. Further to the right on the political spectrum the radical Jobbik party, which won 16.7% of the vote in the 2010 elections to become the third largest party in Hungary, is drawing attention.  The Movement for a Better Hungary’s (A Jobbik Magyarországért Mozgalom) manifesto is mainly based on, among other things, nationalism and the combating of so-called “gypsy criminality” (cigánybűnözés). Many believe that the party was closely linked to the Magyar Gárda (the Hungarian Guard that is now dissolved, but still active under different names), which was established to protect the population against this “gypsy crime”.

Jobbik’s main support base is not only found in the ranks of the poor and poorly educated workers in the northeast of the country, but increasingly amongst the urban young. In early 2010, some 15% of under-25s said they would vote for Jobbik – the party was particularly popular among university students specialising in the humanities or history.

This raises the question of why Jobbik is attractive to more highly educated students in Budapest. Most narratives paint a picture of a faceless crowd of “societal losers” who vote for the radical right. Can the same terminology be used to describe these students? I travelled to Budapest to find out. During a month of extensively interviewing students and hearing their story, while trying not to judge and to remain objective, I learned that radical right voters can be far from being the indistinguishable mass of victims they are often taken to be.

 Of multinationals and gypsies

A Jobbik student attends class with pen and bracelet in the colours of the Hungarian flag. Photo: Swaan van Iterson.

Farkas Gergely (25), a recent graduate in economics and sociology, is a Jobbik member and one of the youngest members of parliament. According to Gergely, the lack of prospects many students face leads them to vote for his party: “Many students in Hungary cannot find work once they graduate… For 20 years, no party stood up for young people and so they looked for something new. We have filled that gap.”

A lot of the students I have spoken to indicate that having a university degree in Hungary is no guarantee for a secure future. According to Marcell, a 25-year-old public administration student, the bad socio-economic situation is a result of, amongst other things, foreign interference: “Multinationals, transnational companies and foreign banks have come to the country in droves since 1989. They were able to operate here without paying any taxes while local firms had to pick up the tab – they got no special perks,” he says. “The result is that the multinationals have devoured our economy. They became the rulers of our homeland. Every Hungarian government over the past 20 years has been their unquestioning servant.”

Szuszanna (21), a medical student in Budapest, believes that it is mainly Jewish enterprises that have received this beneficial treatment: “We’re not happy with the Israeli companies which buy up everything here – they ruin everything. They take a lot of money out of the country and invest very little,” she argues.

In Szuszanna’s view, the trouble is that if you want to do something about the situation, you’re immediately labelled as an anti-Semite. According to her, the same problem arises around the “gypsy question”. The Jobbik introduced the term “gypsy criminality” into Hungary’s political discourse, which finally made it, in Szuszanna’s view, possible to talk about the situation - something that is very urgent, she believes: “During communist times, everybody was obliged to work, but that changed with the advent of capitalism,” Szuszanna tells. “Now that you can get benefits, a lot of gypsies don’t work anymore. They spend their benefits on alcohol and cigarettes and when this runs out, they often steal.”

Radical change

Student supporters of Jobbik greet one another by saying “Szebb Jövőt”, meaning “A better future”. They would like to see change not only in the socio-economic conditions but also in the political situation. János (26), who studies IT, believes that students vote for Jobbik because they want radical change. According to him, Hungary never underwent a change of the regime (rendszerváltás). He thinks that many communists continue to be in power under the guise of socialism and that communism actually never went away in Hungary. Moreover, like János, a lot of students view the socialists as being corrupt.

For a lot of the students, 2006 was the time they decided to join the Jobbik party. That year, an audio recording surfaced from a closed-door meeting, featuring the then socialist president Ferenc Gyurcsány. On the recording, Gyurcsány admitted that “we have been lying for the last one and a half to two years” about the economic situation in Hungary. The leak led to public outrage and mass demonstrations, including the occupation of the state television building by football hooligans and radical-right students.

Many of the Jobbik supporters believe that socialist “indoctrination” does not only occur in the political sphere, but also in the education system. Jószef, a PhD student in political science who is researching euroscepticism, would like to build an academic career but, in his view, it is very difficult to earn money as an independent political scientist in Hungary: “You need to have a political colour, otherwise you’ll get nowhere in this field,” he says. “Personally I have had no problems but I have heard others say that it is difficult to get a good position if you’re not a socialist.”

And it’s not just academia. In Katalin’s opinion the media is also dominated by “liberal leftists” (referring to the socialists). The “simplistic and oversexualised” American programming on television annoys her: “The Hungarian media is extremely prejudiced and, above all, extremely liberal,” she complains. “People watch MTV, use drugs, find it normal to be gay and encourage others to become so too. That’s just ridiculous.”

The “bias” of the Hungarian media does not stop Jobbik from reaching the public, János stresses. He says that the party bypasses the mainstream media by being very active on social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter. Moreover, this helps the party to connect better with young people.

Eszter, a master’s student in public administration, thinks that Jobbik is a party for the young generation in a country where there is an intergenerational divide in politics: “Older people lived through communism and miss the security and stability of those times. In those days, there was still work for everyone. This means that older people vote more frequently for the socialists. Young people don’t have the same experiences and sympathies.”

Hungary’s Young Turks?

Badges worn by a Jobbik supporter. Photo: Swaan van Iterson.

Péter is a university lecturer at both ELTE and Corvinus University. He says that students who vote for Jobbik regularly voice their political views in their essays and assignments. According to him, history students in particular are drawn to the party – a phenomenon that does not surprise him in the least: “Hungarians have a history of lost wars and lost independence. This gives you a reason to become nationalistic. Young people are convinced that, given all they’ve lost, Hungarians can only count on themselves.”

Many of the students I spoke to integrate their political views not only into their studies but also their plans for the future. Ákos (21) describes knowledge as his “weapon” with which he can build his future and change the world. Towards that end, he is studying history and Turkish. He believes that Hungarians must have more control over their country, and the only way to achieve this is to become more independent from the West.

Surprisingly for all those right-wing Europeans who oppose Turkish membership of the EU because of the supposed civilisational differences, Ákos wishes to strengthen ties between Hungary and Turkey, as he believes the two countries share a common history: “Most people believe that the Hungarians are descendants of the Finno-Ugric tribes, but this is untrue. The Turks and Hungarians are brothers and there is a lot of research which shows that Hungarians are related to tribes in Kazakhstan.”

For other students, Jobbik is more a part of their daily reality than their future dreams. Barnabás (20), also a history student, wears black jeans and a leather jacket bearing Hungarian nationalist iconography, as well as an armband in the colours of the Hungarian flag. His interest in the Hungarista subculture began when he turned 16 and started listening to nationalist rock bands like Kárpátia and Romantikus Erőszak, whose songs include 100% Magyar (100% Hungarian) and Lesz még Erdély (Transylvania will be ours).

“It is very, very important for me to be part of the Jobbik movement. It is an integral part of my Hungarian identity,” Barnabás admits. “You really get the feeling that you belong to a group. Jobbik helps people who feel out of place but have a strong bond with Hungary to find a community. Before I joined Jobbik, I often felt alone, like I didn’t belong anywhere.”

According to Ákos, this sense of loneliness is common among young Hungarians who have few extracurricular activities to engage in or groups to join. For him, Jobbik is almost more like a family than a party: “At Jobbik, you feel that you’re at home. You are surrounded by people who think just like you and who want to reach the same goals.” He ended our conversation with the following words: “We’re there for each other. We fight for each other. Also for you, a better future!”

The students I talked to are trying to change their future through the Jobbik party. The way they actively engage their political ideas in their daily activities, studies and career plans, and use modern utilities like social media, makes it impossible to label them as ‘losers of the modern world’ or the modernisation process. But despite the solidarity and belonging that Jobbik inspires in its young members, the question is whether the radical right path they are treading is the way to achieve their dreams of independence, pride and well-being.

This article is part of a special Chronikler series on far-right extremism. It is published here with the author’s consent. ©Swaan van Iterson.

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Riding the school bus together in Jerusalem

 
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By Khaled Diab

Bilingual Hebrew-Arabic schooling has the potential to build bridges between Palestinians and Israelis. So why aren’t there more of them?

Arabic version

Thursday 28 July 2011

Pupils joyously evacuate the school for the summer. ©Photo:Khaled Diab

The mutual distrust between Israelis and Palestinians is such that almost every action by the other side is viewed through a prism of suspicion. Take the Jerusalem light railway. When it finally starts operating, it will connect the Jewish west of the city with the Palestinian east.

Many Palestinians, concerned over Israel’s ongoing settlement expansion, see the new tram not as a useful transportation service but as part of an Israeli plan to cement its grip on the whole of Jerusalem. For many Israelis, the idea of becoming fellow passengers with Palestinians is a prospect that elicits both fear and loathing.

This is partly because, with little personal contact between the two sides, the voices of extremists are the loudest. Avoiding an arrival at this terminal state of distrust is a long journey that should start as early as possible in life. Perhaps persuading Israelis and Palestinians to become fellow passengers on the school bus, so to speak, is one of the biggest challenges facing those who seek a future of coexistence.

The Hand in Hand bilingual education network aims to provide just such an opportunity. Founded in 1997 by an Israeli-American social worker, Lee Gordon, and a Palestinian-Israeli teacher, Amin Khalaf, the network is currently comprised of four schools where Israeli-Jews and Palestinians can study together in both Arabic and Hebrew. The largest school, with some 500 pupils, is in Jerusalem.

In line with the school’s aim of promoting complete equality between Arabs and Jews, the children often don’t know or care about the ethnicity of their schoolmates. “The children at the school don’t look at each other as ‘Jews’ and ‘Arabs’, they use their own criteria,” explains Ira Kerem, an American-Israeli social worker and my guide for the day. “What they’re interested in are things like: is this person good friend material, is this kid cool, how good is he at football?”

“We learn to love people for who they are more than where they come from or what religion they believe in,” writes Ruth, a Jewish pupil, in a letter to an American supporter.

Nevertheless, despite the school’s best efforts, inequalities do creep in. In theory, the school’s bilingual approach should ensure that all the pupils become equally proficient in Hebrew and Arabic, explains Inas Deeb, who is in charge of educational programmes at the school.

“However, Arab pupils generally speak better Hebrew than Jewish pupils speak Arabic,” says Deeb. “Hebrew is the dominant language… Arab kids speak Hebrew outside the school, unlike most of the Jewish kids [who do not speak Arabic].”

Despite these linguistic disparities, which the school and parents are working to tackle, pupils confirm the general sense of equality and trust. “There’s no difference here between the Jewish kids and the Palestinian kids. Unlike outside the school, here we feel equal,” agreed Mu’eed and Jouhan, two Palestinian teenagers studying at the school.

But the reality of the divided city is never far from the school gates. When I probed the youngsters about whether they socialised with their Jewish friends, both answered in the affirmative, but noted that Jewish and Palestinian neighbours were not always as tolerant and understanding.

As its name suggests, Hand in Hand does its best to promote honest and mutually respectful dialogue among pupils and parents alike, says Kerem. “We teach that bloodletting will not resolve the conflict or bring about peace,” adds Deeb.

Although this is commendable, the question of how much difference the few thousand children who have studied at Hand in Hand and other schools like it can make is a poignant one. “We have no illusions that this school will bring peace between Israelis and Palestinians,” one Israeli-Jewish father admitted to me. “But you have to do something and every little bit counts. And you have to start with yourself.”

“This school offers a glimmer of hope for the future, and for the sake of our children, we need to provide them with every bit of hope we can,” his good friend, a Palestinian mother, chimed in.

But to keep this glimmer alight and perhaps help it burn more intensely requires support. Hand in Hand depends for at least a third of its funding on international private donations, which have been hit hard by the global recession. If it fails to raise more funds, it may be forced to cut back its activities.

It is the opinion of this author that not only does Hand in Hand deserve a helping hand, but that this kind of bilingual education should become more universally available in order to help the next generations to learn to live together.

This article was first published by the Common Ground News Service on 26 July 2011.

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From Arab spring to summer of love in Egypt?

 
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By Khaled Diab

The Egyptian revolution awoke hopes of a new era of gender equality and of greater sexual liberty. But how likely is Egypt to have its own summer of love?

Wednesday 13 July 2011

In the early weeks of the Egyptian revolution, Tahrir (or Liberation) square provided tantalising glimpses of a new Egypt of liberty and equality in which class, religion, gender and age melted into apparent insignificance. Muslims and Christians mingled cross and crescent; the old followed the young’s lead; men and women became comrades rather than ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’.

“The social problems that have plagued Egypt for years seem to have dissolved in the solidarity and egalitarianism that have become the defining characteristic of the community of peaceful protesters in Tahrir,” reported Karim Medhat Ennarah, an Egyptian activist who camped out for weeks on the now-iconic square, back in February.

The positive vibe among the protesters was such that “we were joking about how the square is now ready to declare independence and become the Free Republic of Tahrir”, recalled Ennarah.

So, was this initial euphoria justified? Will the Tahrir model spread to society as a whole to transform Egypt into an egalitarian meritocracy where youth and gender are no barriers to advancement? And will the Arab Spring one day blossom into a summer of social and sexual liberty for young Egyptians, regardless of their gender?

On the one hand, Egyptians have managed to redefine the country’s political landscape dramatically, most spectacularly by toppling Egypt’s former dinosaur-in-chief, Hosni Mubarak.

On the other hand, as I have warned from the start, the revolution to date has focused mainly on politics and little on the deeper socio-economic changes the country needs if it is escape the oppressive grip of the past. Although the country is free of its supreme symbol of authoritarianism, it is still struggling with the millions of what I call “mini-Mubaraks” running families, businesses and universities through the kind of deferential patronage made unpopular by the big man himself.

The main victims of this are the young and women, two relatively disenfranchised groups who played a pivotal role in the revolution’s success but are now slowly being sidelined by the older generation and men respectively in the post-revolutionary scene.

Women in particular, despite their active involvement in the revolution and all the sacrifices they made, have seen everything change in Egypt and nothing change in their situation, as poignantly symbolised by the appearance of sexual harassment on Tahrir Square itself in recent weeks.

“Men and women stood together hand in hand – as Egyptians regardless of their gender – and won the battle against corruption,” reflects Marwa Rakha, an Egyptian writer, broadcaster and blogger. “Now the revolution is over and everything is back to normal. The attitude towards women has not been impacted by the historic victory.”

To illustrate her point, Rakha – who wrote The Poison Tree, a novel about the “poisoned culture” of Egyptian traditions, beliefs and taboos – cites as an example an International Women’s Day rally on Tahrir Square in March, where the participants were harassed. “They were attacked. Men chanted slogans against them like: ‘Men want to topple feminists’ and ‘Since when did women have a voice?’ They were asked to go home and obey God. They were let down by the average Egyptian man and woman alike,” she bemoans.

Rakha does not hold out much hope of full gender equality or sexual liberation, particularly for women, coming about in the foreseeable future. “Patriarchal values, religion, and traditions are not as easy to topple [as Mubarak],” she tells me. “Virtue, honour and integrity lie between a woman’s legs – this is the subliminal message that propagates through sermons, movies, songs, novels, or shows.”

Egypt’s ongoing obsession with female virginity has long puzzled me. Although most human societies, either now or historically, have placed a premium on premarital sexual chastity, or ‘purity’, particularly when it comes to women, many countries have broken free or are breaking free of this ancient prejudice.

This has largely not occurred in Egypt, despite promising signs a few decades ago. While Egypt and other secularised Arab states were not far behind the West in terms of gradual sexual liberation until the early 1960s, the West has since had its sexual revolution, while in the Egyptian context it never really made it beyond a counter-cultural movement. In fact, a sexual counter-revolution began its gradual march in the late 1970s, as more and more people turned to the security of Islam and tradition.

But why is this? Part of the problem is that Egypt’s sexual liberation was not a truly indigenous process and was led by a secular elite who emulated the West, rather than innovated or adapted the movement to suit local circumstances.

This meant that once the West was no longer held in high esteem due to its post-colonial meddling in Egypt’s affairs and the secular elite was discredited by its failure to turn Egypt into a modern and prosperous society, millions turned to the security blanket of religion and tradition. “Too many people hold that the solution to all Egypt’s problems is morality, and the main moral issue for them is how women relate to men,” Aida Seif el-Dawla, one of Egypt’s leading feminists told me a few years ago in Cairo.

This fixation on women as ‘corrupters’ is a symptom of the male-dominated nature of society. “Economic factors cannot be ignored when talking about Egyptian women – many of them are dependent on ‘a man’,” says Rakha. “Social factors also play a role; no one wants to be the single spinster or the divorcee.”

This desire to control women is partly a manifestation of the general sense of powerlessness among the population. “Whenever people become less in control of their lives, they seek to control those aspects that are left to them. If you can’t control your income, the fate of your family or the politics of your country, then you will try to control what you can, i.e. the private sphere,” Seif el-Dawla explained.

This observation holds some promise for the future. If the revolution succeeds in making Egyptians in general feel more empowered, and Egyptian men in particular less emasculated, then the circle of freedom is likely to spread wider to embrace women. In my view, activists need to focus greater attention and resources on challenging and redefining traditional notions of manhood in order to empower what I call the ‘average Mo’ to see gender equality as a sign of strength and not an admission of defeat in the sex wars.

Despite the outward appearance of the growing Islamification of society over the past three decades, Egypt has been undergoing a process which I have described as “secularism in a veil”. And this process dropped its veil during the revolution, when the youth behind the protests set out their demands, all of which were democratic and secular in nature.

Even the hijab, viewed almost exclusively as a tool of oppression in the West, has played its part in empowering Egyptian women, though not in the sexual sphere. According to Rabab el-Mahdi, who teaches political science at the American university in Cairo, the headscarf “has given women more access to the public sphere, professionally, politically and socially … Ultimately, women should be able to go out into the public sphere without the veil. But it is a coping mechanism.”

Men, however, generally do not require a veil of deceit. While women are usually criticised and reprimanded for openly expressing their sexuality, men are celebrated and applauded.

This has resulted in a lop-sided and warped ‘sexual revolution’ in which too many men feel it is almost their divine right to have fun with women while young, even to the extent of sexually harassing them on the streets, only then to settle down with a ‘virtuous’ woman. This is not only unfair to women but counterproductive for men – after all, how many women want to be branded a ‘slut’ by the very man they slept with?

The best hope for the future for Egyptian women is that their greater economic independence, coupled with a more open, post-revolutionary political arena could finally inspire them to abandon their fear and reservation and to stand up en masse for full equality.

“Change will only happen when women have more faith in themselves, get a better education, have goals and interests other than men, and become more involved in the community,” concludes Rakha.



This article was first published by the Institute for War and Peace Reporting on 12 July 2011.

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Sexual harassment: 18-day social revolutions do not exist

 
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By Kholoud Khalifa

Tackling harassment requires much more than a political revolution: it needs a social movement that restores people’s dignity and promotes equality.

I sometimes wonder if the 18-day Egyptian revolution would ever have a positive impact on the problem of sexual harassment in Egypt. Is it so hard to imagine that crude impropriety, which is endemic in today’s society, can perhaps perish the same way that Mubarak, along with his embezzling wife and his corrupt sons have?

Unfortunately, the answer is ‘yes’.

This time around public disobedience and a million-man march won’t get rid of the problem. Inevitably, people will realise that curing this social disease will prove to be much more difficult than the toppling of a 30-year old dictatorial regime. While the political setting may have changed, many aspects of Egyptian lifestyle, including the reality of sexual harassment, still persist.

Some have argued that Mubarak was the reason these molestations existed and sexual harassment was a direct result of his leadership. Ask any Egyptian mother  and she will tell you that back in the 1970s women used to wear mini-skirts and received no uninvited attention for it, even in the poorest of neighbourhoods.  Deteriorating living conditions under the Mubarak regime meant that men were unable to get married, which resulted in their sexual frustration and effectively gave them, what they saw, as a god-given right to cat-call, grope and intimidate women on the streets of Egypt. While this argument may have some truth to it, it doesn’t explain why boys who haven’t hit puberty yet and married men with children are guilty of the same crimes.

The main reason why it may be harder to remedy the situation and may take longer to bring about social change, as opposed to the recent political changes, is simply because human nature is quite intricate and old habits are hard to break. The lack of education is perhaps one key social aspect that explains the rise of sexual harassment in Egyptian society.

Education doesn’t just mean schooling. I would also hold women, particularly mothers, accountable for these harassments, not because they dress chic or stay out late at night, but because many of them fail to teach their sons what it means to respect oneself and respect women.

With a society that churns out millions of harassers and pours them on to the streets, in malls, on busses and in your own private university, no recipe for political change can be applied to abolish this social problem.

However, there have been many initiatives on both a national and international level to end these assaults on women. Media outlets have published stories exposing the dire situation in Egypt, social media platforms have encouraged tweets and blogs and designed polls to monitor the relationship between sexual frustration and sexual harassment, and the American University in Cairo has gone as far as to stage plays that address this very issue. While these are all positive approaches and create awareness in different parts of the world or on campuses, they aren’t reaching the majority of offenders. 

It is imperative that the new government restore the concept of human dignity in order to stop the men who commit these deplorable deeds. But until then, if you fall into the category of ‘woman’, you’re likely to be approached and unwillingly harassed for a while to come, regardless of your social background or how you dress.

This article is part of a special series on sexual harassment. Published here with the author’s consent. © Kholoud Khalifa. All rights reserved.

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Learning tolerance

 
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By Barry van Driel

Islamophobia is common in western society, so the classroom is a good place to start combating it.

25 November 2010

If ever a book was overdue, Teaching against Islamophobia is it. This edited volume of very diverse contributions deals with a phenomenon that I would want to describe as the first real obsession of the 21st century:  the unease of Western societies with Islam and Muslims.  Unease is perhaps too mild a term for the mudslinging, accusations, fears and sheer paranoia that seem to have taken hold of large swathes of the public and media across North America and Europe. The vitriolic attacks on everything Muslim have been unleashed from both the right and the left side of the political spectrum.

This book represents a committed and comprehensive attempt to remind those in society who define themselves as educators that embracing issues of social justice and equity implies taking sides in the Islamophobia debate. The editors rightfully view Islamophobia through the lens of racism. In the UK, this has led to the use of the term anti-Muslim racism instead of Islamophobia.

Though the authors claim in their forward that the book is aimed at teachers, the contributions make it clear that it is intended for a much broader audience and that it has been especially written to make all of us (the non-Muslims primarily) reflect on our attitudes and misconceptions and to rethink many of our assumptions.

Living in Europe, I was pleased to see a primarily American book provide a North American perspective on the issue of Islamophobia, while also bringing in European issues in a few key places. In that sense, the book truly has an international character.

The 20 chapters in this book cover a wide range of topics, and it moves from more theoretical and socio-political discourse to a discussion of more practical issues.

In chapter 1, Joe Kincheloe and Shirley Steinberg set the theoretical tone for the rest of the book. Their comment that “learning from difference means that teachers are aware of the histories and struggles of colonized groups and oppressed  peoples” signifies how the authors reject the very common approach in multicultural and intercultural education that avoids discussing historical injustices and controversial issues so as not to upset people. References to empathetic understanding, solidarity and valuing of differences help position their pedagogical approach.  Their deconstruction of the propagandistic arguments being used by, for instance, the Fordham Foundation to promote the West as enlightened and majority Muslim nations as inherently inferior and a threat.

Chistopher Stonebanks builds on this analysis by looking at the manner in which intolerant attitudes towards Muslims and Islam are promoted by popular culture and are not considered, by and large, to be prejudicial. He also discusses the controversial concept of Islamophobia. Any treatise on the topic is enriched by looking at alternative and perhaps more accurate concepts. For instance, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), which includes some 67 countries from Canada to Russia, speaks of ‘intolerance against Muslims’.

The last two chapters of Part 1 have been written by several Muslim teachers and address the misconceptions they encounter among their students regarding the core principles of Islam, the role of women, perceptions of violence, the spiritual meaning of the concept of ‘jihad’, and more.

Screen villains

Part 2 of the book looks at public, media and political discourse related to Islam. Shirley Steinberg returns to the topic of media discourse by examining 17 films where there is a significant presence of Arabs and/or Muslims. Her analysis shows that the overwhelming majority of Muslims/Arabs depicted in films – for most films the two are interchangeable categories – are viewed as barbaric, dangerous and uncivilised. They are somewhere between human and animal. White men are viewed as the heroes who will save locals and the West from these evil, stealing, cheating people. Arab and Muslim women are almost exclusively portrayed as oppressed and/or fanatical.

Steinberg also traces how Arabs and Muslims are portrayed in television programmes in the United States and finds that though there a few positive depictions of Muslims, they are, by far, in the minority and becoming less common in recent years. Steinberg especially deconstructs popular television shows, such as Cable TV’s Sleeper Cell and 24. On the whole, Muslims are perceived as potential threats and especially as the ‘enemy within’.  Given their evil demeanour and the threat to the United States they do not deserve the same rights as others in society.

Jehanzab Dar looks at the demonisation of Muslims and Arabs in mainstream American comic books, which tend to be poorly developed caricatures of the ugly Arab stereotype. The author does devote some attention to several more recent positive cartoon depictions.  The series The 99 is especially mentioned as an example of how popular media (in this case comic books) can provide more accurate depictions of Muslims and Arabs.

Michael Giardina, moves away from analyses of popular culture somewhat and looks at how political individuals can be demonised through associations with Islam. He focuses on the rhetoric and imagery used to discredit US President Barack Obama by right-wing conservatives.

Nations of Islam

Part 3 shed light on “Muslims you never knew” by covering topics outside the main discourse relating to Islamophobia.

Several essays examine a topic often forgotten in the discourse about Islam and Muslims in the United States – the relationship of the African-American community to Islam. Preacher Moss, who refers to himself as an ‘undercover Muslim’, takes a somewhat tongue-in-cheek look at African American perspectives on Muslim identities.  The more serious essence of his treatise is that “African American Muslims are marginalized as African Americans and ignored as African American Muslims”.

Samaa Abdurraqib provides highly insightful information about the historical relationship of the African-American community in the United States to Islam. She explains, right from its inception, Islam has been present in the United States – citing that perhaps 10%-15% of slaves brought to the United States were Muslim. She goes on to explain how this dimension of black history in the United States has been ignored in education and in the media, as has the diversity among US Muslims. The author’s main point is that Islam is not a foreign religion in the United States, as frequently claimed, but that it has long-established roots.

In a chapter that is bound to lead to significant discussion and debate among educators of all stripes, Younes Mourchid examines the contested relationship between alternative sexual orientations and traditional Islamic values. Mourchid builds his chapter on interviews with 20 LGBT Muslims. The author shows how such individuals, in often complex and contradictory ways, almost always struggle with their identity formation.

Some tend to internalise homophobic attitudes, blaming themselves for causing friction in the family, for instance, while others might internalise Islamophobic attitudes, blaming Islam for rejecting this core part of their identity. The campaign to make homosexuality acceptable in Muslim communities faces many challenges and is an uphill struggle. Mourchid closes with a discussion of whether those who hold traditional religious attitudes and reject homosexuality can be labelled ‘homophobic’.  His answer might surprise some readers.

Awad Ibrahim also seeks to provoke debate by examining the role of atheists and other non-believers within Islamic societies and ends with what he calls ‘The St Petersburg Manifesto’. This Manifesto is directed at both Muslim and non-Muslim faith communities and argues for a number of freedoms to be implemented in predominantly Muslim societies, such as freedom of conscience and freedom of speech, and the separation of religion and state.

Back to school

Part 4 brings us closest to the title of the book by providing some very concrete suggestions for materials that can be used in classrooms at all levels to combat Islamophobia, while also examining these materials critically.

Carolyne Ali Khan takes a critical look at a variety of educational programmes and materials that students in US schools are exposed to. In a very insightful discussion of several organisations and programmes that claim to promote understanding and ‘tolerance’, Ali Khan shows how they do the opposite.  She critically assesses, for instance, the messages and approaches promulgated by the New York Tolerance Centre and the American Textbook Council. The author’s discussion of these and other respected sources shows to what extent anti-Muslim bias has penetrated mainstream and even ‘tolerance’ education.  She ends her chapter by presenting some ‘uncommon knowledge’ about Pakistan and Pakistanis. Khan comments that many in Pakistan “are not the lunatic fringe. They are intelligent, complex and rational; they sing, dance and read and (perhaps most shockingly) they laugh, merrily poking fun at themselves and at the world”.

Anastasia Kamanos Gamelin looks at the intersection of gender and education in Saudi Arabia, a country known for denying women a number of fundamental rights and with a very traditional view of gender roles.

Fida Sanjakdar focuses on sex education in Australia and the view of Muslim communities regarding this always contested topic.  She notes that, in Islamic school curricula, almost no attention is devoted to sex education and this omission, in her view, represents a violation of the Islamic principles of a holistic and democratic education.

Krista Riley looks at the ways that literature, in particular young adult literature, can be used to “address themes of oppression and to promote critical reflection and social justice activism”. She does this by analyzing the book Bifocal, a fictional story about the arrests made of young Muslim men in Toronto in 2006 and the racist backlash at a high school after the arrests.

In the book’s final chapter, Melanie Stonebanks presents three potential classroom resources – illustrated picture books with Muslim main characters – that could be used as first steps to combating Islamophobia.  She concludes that, though the texts are far from perfect, they could be useful if used appropriately and with a critical eye.

This article is published with the author’s permission. © Barry van Driel. All rights reserved.

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Less Catholic than the pope

 
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By Khaled Diab

Catholic’ education thrives in Belgium, but the decision between principle and pragmatism is not easy when choosing a school.

20 October 2010

Putting off until tomorrow what I can do today has been an effective guiding principle in much of what I do. However, our crash course in parenthood is quickly teaching us that certain things need to be planned well in advance. When our son was little more than a twinkle on the ultrasound screen, we were advised that we needed to start finding and registering for a crèche, given the length of the waiting lists here in Ghent.

At 10 months of age, Iskander is quite literally still finding his feet, and is some two years away from ‘graduating’ his creche. Yet, after friends alerted us that registration for preschool would soon begin, and given the waiting lists at many schools in inner-city areas, we’ve been forced to start thinking about his schooling.

We are fortunate enough to live just around the corner from one of the best schools in Ghent.  Although Iskander reacted to his potential future school with cool detachment and studied indifference, it left a good impression on me. According to a formal evaluation, it has a good academic track record, encourages independent thought and creativity among its pupils, works closely with parents and organises lots of extra-curricular activities.

Although the school insists that it is not elitist and is striving to attract children from all backgrounds, its former pupils include two Nobel prize winners, a number of prominent actors, poets and writers, ministers and prime ministers, as well as the current head of the International Olympic Committee, Jacques Rogge.

Despite the fact that the school seems to offer both convenience and excellence, there is one issue that troubles me: this Jesuit school identifies itself as ‘Catholic’. Of course, with the sex abuse scandals rocking the church – including cover-up allegations in Belgium – ‘Catholic’ and ‘children’ are not words many people would comfortably place in close proximity. “Almost every [Catholic] institution, every school, particularly boarding schools, at one time harboured abuse,” said Peter Adriaenssens, the head of a church commission monitoring complaints.

But this isn’t what bothers me, since the church and clergy have nothing to do with the day-to-day running of Catholic schools anymore, and their staff are paid for, screened and supervised by the state. As a non-believer and dedicated secularist, what troubles me is the idea of sending my child to a school that associates itself, no matter how loosely, with a particular faith. It’s not that I have anything against Catholics or the Christian faith, I just entertain a general scepticism towards organised religion.

Luckily, these establishments are a lot less Catholic than the pope. My wife – who went to Catholic school, just like most Belgians she knows, including quite a few Muslims – assures me that they are Catholic mostly in name only.

And what the school informed me bears this out. Young children receive only informal religious education, such as the nativity story. Older children start getting a couple of periods a week on Christianity, then, in secondary school, they start learning about other religions and ethical systems, too.

Besides, Catholic schools in Belgium regularly outperform secular state schools and, a recent study concluded, university students from Catholic schools are more likely to succeed in higher education – though not everyone agrees with the findings.

But why are Belgian Catholic schools so far ahead of their more secular alternatives?

The prevalence and dominance of the Catholic school system is an accident of Belgian history and reflects the once-dominant hold of the church on society. It is also a product of the long and bitter conflict between freethinkers and Catholics, the so-called ‘school wars’, in which liberals and socialists have traditionally supported the idea of secular, ideologically neutral schools, while the Christian Democrats and church establishment have put their collective weight behind an independent, yet state-subsidised, Catholic school network.

The highly organised nature of the Catholic establishment and the long political dominance of the Christian Democrats has created the current situation in which neutral state schools are the poor cousins of Catholic schools.

However, the increasing post-war secularisation of Belgian society and the efforts of freethinkers to take as much of the Catholic out of Catholic schools as they can, has resulted in a classic ‘Belgian compromise’ in which there is little practical ideological difference between the two streams of the Belgian state-funded schooling system, despite their labels.

And, for an egalitarian like me, I’m pleased that hardly anyone in Belgium goes to private schools and everyone, in theory, has an equal shot at entering any school, with priority going to locals and disadvantaged groups.

So, the question is, should principle or pragmatism prevail?

My wife is of the opinion that the proximity and apparent quality of the school, and the fact that all the good schools within an acceptable distance from the house are also Catholic, means that pragmatism should prevail.

Besides, religious education was part and parcel of our own schooling and it certainly did not make us religious. I still remember many of the Christian hymns we were taught during assembly when I was a child, I spent a short period in the school choir despite my poor singing skills, and my brother played one of the three wise men in the nativity. At my first secondary school, religious studies were obligatory and, at my second, I could sit through the lessons and do my own thing, while ‘Chopper’ Harris often droned on about the war, instead of teaching religion.

Even in Egypt and other parts of the Middle East, many of the best modern schools were set up by European missionaries and Muslims have usually outnumbered Christians there. “The teaching was good at the time I was there, now these schools are not top of the line anymore after the new international schools,” recalls Sherif, an Egyptian friend who studied at the College de la Salle.

For Katleen – and I have to agree – the most important thing is that we find a school for Iskander where he will be happy and comfortable and one that will bring out the best in him. And if, in future, Iskander receives anything in his religious education class which we find objectionable, we can provide him with alternative visions and outlooks at home. Besides, by the time he is old enough, perhaps the school will introduced an opt-out from religion lessons.

This is the extended version of a column which appeared in the Guardian newspaper’s Comment is Free section on 8 October 2010. Read the full discussion here.

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The fine art of repression

 
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By Khaled Diab

Egyptian Culture Minister Farouk Hosny’s bid to be the chief of the UN’s cultural wing has aroused suspicion among liberals and conservatives alike.

15 September 2009

Home to arguably the most famous world heritage sites and as the Arab world’s cultural centre of gravity, Egypt should be a ripe recruiting ground for UNESCO’s next chief. But Egyptian culture minister Farouk Hosny’s bid to take over the reins of the UN’s cultural and educational arm has stirred up controversy both within and outside Egypt.

Faced with failing popularity at home, Hosny engaged in offensive grandstanding and opportunistic populism last year when he made the shocking claim, for a man supposedly of culture, that if it were in his power, he would burn all Israeli books in Egypt, provoking the ire of Israel and of Jews around the world, although Israel withdrew its opposition to his candidature.

At home, Egyptians are divided over his candidacy. Many are outraged by the prospect that one of President Hosni Mubarak’s most trusted minions and his longest-serving minister – not to mention the first lady’s favourite – might actually become the face of global culture, education and science.

But Hosny is only Egypt’s culture minister. Surely, he can’t be held responsible for the regime’s excesses, some may protest. But even if he is not directly implicated in the government’s abuses, he does employ his talents as an abstract artist to obscure and mask the ugly face of the regime with some desperately needed prestige. In fact, media reports suggest that Mubarak regards the whole UNESCO issue as a matter of pride for his government.

More murkily, Hosny does his part to limit press freedom and freedom of expression both for political and personal reasons – one Egyptian blogger even described him as a “diva” for blacklisting artists who refused to accept awards from the ministry.

“Farouk Hosny and the first lady are the examples I despise the most,” my brother Osama fumed in no uncertain terms. “People whose jobs are to improve the image of an oppressive regime by bringing operas by Verdi to Luxor and the Pyramids and [who] pretend to promote books and reading, while reading and knowledge, in reality, are the things the regime fears the most.”

“I wish he wins,” one Egyptian joked on Facebook, “to make the world know how much we suffer in Egypt.”

But it’s not just progressives and liberals who oppose Hosny, reactionary elements do, too, but for other reasons. The culture minister has provoked the ire of Islamists and conservatives in a way that endears him somewhat to me.

At one level, this is part and parcel of his portfolio: culture and art are seen by the most conservative elements as being decadent and corrupting. In addition, Hosny’s oft-progressive cultural views have unleashed numerous public storms against him over the years.

One example dates back to 2006, when the urbane minister described the increasing prevalence of the hijab – a trend that has placed increasing social pressure on bare-headed women to conform – as a “step back for Egyptian women”. Not content to dare to suggest that women should let their hair down, he riled conservatives further by sensibly suggesting that if women are obliged to wear hijab, then so should men.

His ministry’s choice of books to publish as part of an initiative to bring affordable literature to the masses has also provoked the fury of conservatives. For example, in 2000, the ministry reprinted A Banquet for Seaweed – a novel about exiled and disillusioned Iraqi communists in Algeria – by the acclaimed Syrian author Haidar Haidar. As a sign of the changing times the novel, which had been applauded by critics on its original publication in the early 1980s, was rounded on by al-Azhar clerics and Islamists who accused Haidar of heresy and offending Islam with certain passages in the book. Shamefully, Hosny and his ministry buckled and withdrew the novel.

Hosny is the only unmarried cabinet minister and is euphemistically referred to as a ‘bachelor’. This has, for the most part, sparked light-hearted rumours about his sexuality. However, the country’s self-appointed morality police have taken it upon themselves to launch a smear campaign against him.

One Islamist lawyer who has made a career as some kind of ‘God’s advocate’ went so far as to demand that the minister be stripped of his ministerial immunity so that he can be prosecuted for his hijab remarks and for allegedly breaching the standards of common decency and morality associated with his job.

How, you may ask? By attending a gay pride parade in Rome when he was Egypt’s cultural attache in Italy. In a manifestation of the Arabic proverb “He who digs a pit for his brother falls in it himself”, the lawyer also offensively demanded that government’s cultural tsar undergo the kind of intrusive medical examination that the regime has used in its recent crackdowns against homosexuals.

But beyond the political and personal, does Hosny have what it takes to run UNESCO? Despite his questionable track record on freedom of expression, Hosny has over two decades of experience and has scored some major successes, including a string of new museums, arts centres, state-funded theatres, the Cairo history rehabilitation project, and the establishment of a cultural development fund.

However, the fact remains that he represents a regime that invests pitifully little in education, science and culture – the mandates of Unesco – and limits the freedoms of its citizens. But then again, if we’re ever to have an Arab Unesco chief, are there any better candidates out there?

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 11 September 2009. Read the related discussion.

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We don’t need no age segregation

 
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By Khaled Diab

Segregating school students by gender, or grouping them according to age simply doesn’t make sense.

April 2009

The fears of generations of parents appear to be unfounded. A new study suggests that it is girls who have a bad influence on boys rather than vice versa – at least when it comes to language. The research found that boys perform worse in English when there are a lot of girls in the class. This female factor can knock as much as 10% off a boy’s grades in the subject.

That boys get all tongue-tied around girls may seem self-evident. They blab and blag with the lads but, once in the company of the opposite sex, their speech rapidly devolves. In fact, for some, the presence of a girl they fancy triggers the kind of recessionary pressure that causes their vocabulary to shrink faster than the economy.

The researcher behind the study, Steven Proud of Bristol University, attributed the discrepancy in performance to the realisation among boys that the girls are better than them at English. This probably acts as a demotivator, especially when coupled with the need to appear cool and nonchalant in class. It could also be that teachers gear their teaching approach to girls when there are more girls than boys in the class, Proud contends.

“The results imply that boys would benefit at all ages from being taught English with as small a proportion of girls as possible,” Proud observes, arguing that this presents a strong case for single-sex English classes. Personally, I went to a mixed primary school and a single-sex secondary school, and I don’t recall any perceptible difference in my performance – but then I was good at English and so perhaps articulate girls failed to intimidate me.

Other experts are doubtful of the value of Proud’s suggestion. “This is one study, among many, which detects very small differences between boys and girls. But you can’t say that it means boys or girls should be separated,” says Alan Smithers, director of the Centre for Education and Employment Research at the University of Buckingham.

Smithers has a point. The gap between boys and girls in different subjects, such as science and languages, is actually smaller than the differences within each gender. In addition, splitting up boys and girls can lead to a growth in awkwardness in social interactions between the two sexes in later life. It can also revive the traditional idea that gender differences are real and enormous, rather than marginal and often socially programmed. For instance, boys are more likely to be rebellious, to have learning disabilities and to express their emotions less because of the way they are forced more than girls to wean themselves off their mother’s affections before they are ready.

My own view is that we need to group pupils according to ability and not segregate them according to gender – or even age.

There is no compelling reason for age segregation in our education systems, since children tend to mature mentally and physically and different rates. But schools are still widely regarded as some kind of education or knowledge factories where you input generic child at one end and output an educated person at the other, and we desperately need to move away from this production-line model and towards more customised learning.

By basing education primarily upon ability rather than age, pupils will be able to study at the level and speed that suits them. To customise the learning experience further to their abilities and needs, schoolkids should be streamed for ability in each individual subject, not according to their overall “intelligence”. So a pupil who is strong at literature but weak at French will study the former at a higher level.

The possible downside of such a system is that you will have pupils of very different ages in the same class, and a youngster who is academically accomplished isn’t necessarily mature enough emotionally and socially to study with older peers. In addition, there is the chance that younger kids will get picked on and older pupils will feel embarrassed.

But the current age segregation in schools has its drawbacks, too, with seniors often lording it over juniors. With time, the greater contact between pupils of different ages will corrode the bizarre age discrimination in schools, and the tribal cliqueness where kids can act like they live in different centuries not study in different years.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 25 April 2009. Read the related discussion.

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